


True Love

by DoreyG



Category: Rush (2013)
Genre: Because apparently hotels excite me, Blow Jobs, Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Hotel!Sex, Implied hand jobs, M/M, Mentions of severe canon character injury, Scars, Sort of making out, body alteration/injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His grin dies quickly, but he’s unable to deny that either. He glances around the corridor for a moment, almost as if he’s been caught doing something wrong, and then shrugs – follows Niki into the dark of his room like he does this all the time.</p>
<p>(Which he does.)</p>
<p>(Just not with <i>Niki</i>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Body Alteration/Injury" square on my Kink_Bingo card. I'm slightly alarmed that this is the first fic with this pairing on the archive, and may end up writing more as a result.

He catches Niki in the hotel hallway after the Italian Grand Prix, when he’s supposed to be drinking and partying his life away and Niki’s supposed to be… Resting. Or curled up with his beautiful and loyal wife, he’s not sure if there’s so much of a distinction.

“Niki!”

“Hunt,” there’s half a smile on Niki’s twisted lips as he turns to face him, but it soon drops. He’s not quite sure why, maybe it’s something in his expression – he’s trying to look as casual as ever, but there’s something serious and lurking waiting just underneath “...James, I mean. Aren’t you supposed to be down in the bar? Celebrating-“

“I didn’t finish the race,” he answers, a wry grin creeping across his face. He can’t even feel too beaten up about it, really. There’s a tiny bit of bitterness there, there’s always going to be a tiny bit of bitterness in a situation where you spin off the track and watch your acclaimed rival shoot past you, but somehow he can deal with it – what with Niki alive, and heroic, and _in front of him_ , “in case you didn’t notice. There’s very little to celebrate there.”

“-Something,” Niki still finishes mildly, with another twisted smile as he turns back to what is apparently the door to his room, “if I know you, as I unfortunately seem to, there’s always _something_ to celebrate, James.”

He grins a little at that, unable to deny it.

“…Do you want to come in?”

…His grin dies quickly, but he’s unable to deny that either. He glances around the corridor for a moment, almost as if he’s been caught doing something wrong, and then shrugs – follows Niki into the dark of his room like he does this all the time.

(Which he does.)

(Just not with _Niki_.)

Niki’s hotel room is pretty much exactly like his. Perhaps laid out a little differently due to space constraints, but otherwise a copy in exact detail. He finds the settee even in the dark, is sitting on it when Niki flips the light on. The man’s only response is a mildly impressed huff – he moves across the room, does something seemingly complicated with his hands and then slumps down besides him. Offering a glass of alcohol that looks an awful lot like ambrosia.

“Thanks,” he says, mildly impressed as he accepts the gift – Niki’s fingers warm against his, Niki’s twisted mouth still wry as their glasses _clink_ softly against each other, “you know, I didn’t think…”

“I know what you think and what you don’t think, Hu- James,” Niki offers softly, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a sharp gulp – he winces quickly after it, it makes sense that the whole area is still horrifically painful but his heart still aches oddly at the sight, “I’m not a complete robot, I sometimes feel a need to indulge in human comforts.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” he mumbles, desperately fighting the urge to snatch the glass from Niki’s fingers and hold him back from all further harm.

“But something like it?”

“…Maybe.”

“You see, James, I _know_ ,” Niki gives a hoarse chuckle and forces himself to take another sip. It’s only then that he realizes that the man’s eyes are still on him, have been on him for some time. He’s probably seen and catalogued every single one of his concerned reactions. Somehow he can’t find it within him to care all that much “…Pretty much everything, in fact. I’m very good.”

“And very arrogant,” he can’t help but laugh, finally takes the first sip of his own drink to appease those ever watching eyes. It burns on the way down, but it’s a good burn. A far too good burn, he knows in his heart of hearts, but he’s too far down that path to drag himself back now, “even after…”

“Pretty much everything, yes,” Niki repeats himself, a soft echo of earlier, and takes a third sip quickly followed by a fourth sip. It doesn’t take a genius, and he certainly doesn’t think himself that, to realize that he’s pushing himself. But, then, that’s always been Niki – a shooting star, determined to outrace the rest of them or die trying “…Why are you here, James? In this room, talking to me right now as if we’re friends.”

The question terrifies him from the growing worry, yet again. He doesn’t know the answer himself. He quickly redirects his eyes to his hands, swallows a few times and decides to take refuge in smartassery until something occurs to him, “you invited me in, remember?”

“Yes, the crash affected my face and nothing underneath it. But _why_ were you there to invite in?”

“I…” The answer is still failing to occur to him. The answers, now, for they have a habit of piling up like so many things do. He can only keep staring at his glass, swirling the liquid around it and desperately hoping that some angel will rise from the depths to save him, “don’t think yourself special, Lauda. My room is on this floor, I was just heading there when I saw you and-“

“Your room is on the floor below this,” there’s a quiet sort of victory in Niki’s voice. He blinks at that, raises his eyes before he can think better of it. Triumph somehow looks more attractive on Niki’s face now, even with all the scars – he looks somewhat noble, somewhat like a man who it wouldn’t be all that hard to lose to, “right near the elevator, a short trip for you and anybody you may drag along with you. You have no business up here, no business at all.”

His mouth has gone dry, possibly at that realization. He licks at his lips, considers ducking his head again but finds himself irrevocably caught by Niki’s eyes.

“So why…?”

“I don’t know why!” He blurts, and waits for the regret to come afterwards. Niki’s eyes widen, and then narrow slightly and it fails to come. Niki’s fingers shift delicately against his glass, and it fails to come. Niki frowns just slightly… And it fails to come. Regret seems to be delayed today, for some puzzling reason, “my feet just led me here and I didn’t stop them. Before I could think better of it you were inviting me in and I was following you.”

…Niki’s eyes remain narrowed, his fingers still against his glass, his frown deepens a little upon his face. It must hurt, what with his new and sudden scars, but he determinedly refuses to show a single bit of pain. It’s something to be admired, really – he’s spent his entire career trying not to admire Niki, but sometimes it just creeps up on him and stubbornly refuses to leave.

The silence ticks on, growing deeper and deeper by the second.

“I punched a man for you today,” he says into it, mainly because nothing else occurs. Niki doesn’t stop looking at him, his gaze simply grows _deeper_ , “multiple times, in fact. He might still be bleeding now, if I judged it right.”

“Interesting,” Niki says, and genuinely sounds interested. That’s a first, the closest that he’s come to interested before now is vibrating off the ground with frustration, “which one?”

He looks him straight in the eyes, for Niki deserves that at least. No flinching, no avoidance, no hiding behind his glass and firing off some wry quip – he can be honest here, even staring straight into the sun with a strange feeling shaking through him like he has absolutely everything to lose, “I think that you know which one.”

“I… The man who asked about my marriage?”

“I dragged him into a closet,” he says, with satisfaction for he’s never claimed to be a saint and Niki’s never once believed him to be one, “sunk my fist into his face several times, and left him sprawled out on the ground. I might’ve broken his nose, when I think about it. He was certainly bleeding enough.”

“Good,” Niki blinks a little, as if he’s mildly shocked to hear such a thing coming out of his mouth, and then laughs softly. He’s also no saint, they both know that so well that it might as well be carved on their bones “…And why would you do that, James? Why would you get so violent over a man that you feel only annoyance for on a _good_ day?”

“I wish you’d stop asking questions, it’s getting ever so annoying,” he snaps, sourly, and knocks back his glass. He half wants to fill another one, but Niki’s in the way and a strangely meaningful barrier is starting to spring up between them “…Because your marriage is your business and your business alone, as I learned to my cost. Because I’ve never _really_ liked that guy’s face. Because I quite like your face, even better now that it’s been burned. Because your marriage is strong, and nobody in the world should question that. And because annoyance, and downright hatred, is a much stronger feeling than either of us would’ve ever guessed.”

…Niki is staring at him, he seems a touch disbelieving. He waits him out, sitting there on the slightly uncomfortable settee with his empty glass still in his hand.

“My marriage is very strong,” Niki says eventually, as if still trying to shape the words in his head.

“I’m sure that it is,” he agrees, amiably, finally setting his empty glass down on the table. He envies Niki a little, to be honest – such strength has proved incredibly hard to find.

“Or, at least, I think it is.”

“I’m _sure_ that it is.”

“And so, I think…” Niki hesitates for a long few moments, he waits him out silently this time. The seconds tick by, and then Niki’s eyes slowly flick back to him – there’s a new kind of purpose in them, one that he’s slightly frightened to examine too closely, “I think that she loves me. And understands.”

Frightened…

“And has understood, every single moment when I was watching you on that hospital screen and choking on my own bile.”

…More than frightened, in fact. Terrified, trembling, so deeply apprehensive that it’s like a weight in his gut. It feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into the abyss with Niki’s voice echoing in his ears. It feels like he’s been caught by the wind, turned upside down and sideways and all ways in between as he desperately tries to regain his footing. It _feels_ , ever so oddly-

He meets Niki’s eyes again, Niki’s meet his. They stare at each other for a long and solemn moment, each one of them wondering who will dare to act first.

… _Right_.

He moves first, pretty much without thinking. His body decides to go, and he just rolls with it. Niki’s lips still look tender, far too tender, and so he heads for the neck instead. Lays his lips lightly against the soft flesh in an imitation of a first kiss between gentle lovers, and then quickly loses patience and brings out his _tongue_ \- lathering it over the pulse point like he’s some priest worshipping some _god_.

Niki is soft but hard against him, obviously a man but with interesting curves around the edges. He keeps expecting him to jerk violently away, but he doesn’t – simply remains in place, yielding and resisting all at the same time. His skin tastes of sweat and oil, salt and the faint tang of blood… Pain and determination, if you can actually taste such things on flesh. He laps it all up, no matter what it is, continues to be surprised when Niki fails to twitch even an _inch_ away.

…In fact, he only moves at the first desperate _scrape_ of teeth. And when he pushes him back his eyes are hardly judgemental, are instead dark and seemingly bottomless, “the bedroom is over there.”

“The bedroom…?”

“Five steps behind me, a little to the right,” Niki’s smile is challenging, his throat has gone red. He’ll have to wear turtlenecks for _days_ after this, the hot shock of pleasure at that stuns him down to his core, “come on, Hunt, don’t tell me that you’re a _virgin_ …”

And he isn’t, and so he knows _exactly_ the ramifications of that place. He yanks Niki to his feet, easily – restrains the urge to just plunder his smirking mouth mercilessly and pushes him five steps backwards and a little to the right instead. He feels a little like he’s going to explode, a building pressure behind his eyes. He’s felt this feeling several times before, it always seems to precede his best lays.

And this looks set to be one of the best, because that’s what six-odd years of pent-up aggressive desire will _do_. They don’t even get to the bedroom, the burning feeling is so low within him. Niki’s shirt is lost on the third step, and his follows swiftly on the fourth. By the time they reach the fifth and slam up against the doorframe Niki’s quick hands have worked their magic on his belt and his jeans are already sliding down his hips.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Niki murmurs, throwing his head back further than is wise as he digs his teeth into his smooth collarbone and worries at the flesh, “do you have any idea how much I fucking _hate_ that?”

“Some,” he grins easily, and decides that Niki needs to be made equal to him yet again. He’s sliding to his knees before he even realizes, soon finds himself at Niki’s feet and feeling _achingly_ happy about it.

Niki gasps out a breath and digs bony fingers _hard_ into his shoulders, and he takes that for the encouragement that it is. He lays a kiss against Niki’s flat stomach, just to tease, and then gets down to work. Niki’s trousers are plain, utilitarian – he undoes the belt with barely a thought, pops the buttons and drags the zipper down with his teeth. A party trick, but _worth_ it – he can hear the shuddering catch of breath above him.

Niki’s briefs are also plain, unassuming black, but they’re already tented and so he’s willing to forgive that. He shoves the trousers down until they’re tangled around Niki’s thighs, and then drags the underwear to roughly the same level. Niki’s cock isn’t beautiful, he’s never understood the folk who crooned _rhapsodies_ over such things, but it most certainly works – when he takes it in his hand it feels heavy and _right_ , the soft keening sound above him is equally flattering.

He wastes no time, for life is short and his mouth is ready. He takes Niki in with one _swallow_ , almost to the back of his throat – it makes his eyes water, but in truth it’s entirely worth it for the _shriek_ of pleasure that it draws. Niki wasn’t damaged down here, at least, and he’s beyond pleased by that – it makes all of his tricks so much easier.

He draws back almost as quickly as he swallowed, tongues around Niki’s head as deftly as he can. He’s possibly the gladdest that he’s ever been for his extensive years of media experience – the sound of Niki softly swearing above him is one that he’s not likely to forget quickly, is probably going to return to on most nights if he can’t convince the man above him to slip into bed next to him a few more times.

He lowers his lips along Niki’s cock again – slower this time, teasing. The swearing above him grows stronger, more ragged. He twists his head to trace the underside with his tongue and is overjoyed to find sudden fingers in his hair. Niki has always been talented in this area, and he looks forward to finding out more – the strength of long fingers kneading at his scalp, guiding him where he needs to go, is something that he’s also not likely to forget in a hurry.

He continues his journey, growing faster and faster – emboldened by Niki’s encouraging grip. He reaches the root in a time that might be a new record, and pauses there to savour the feeling of being held. Niki’s flesh smells musky, his swearing is a constant litany above. It strikes him that he would rather be nowhere else at the moment, and the thought should be terrifying but instead ends up just a little _exciting_. He feels hot, happy in a way that he hasn’t for a good while. He feels… _Well_.

And then he hollows his cheeks.

Things go rather quickly after that, and he’d laugh if he wasn’t so busy. Niki screeches out a swear word, and twists those talented fingers in his hair so hard that he sees stars. He takes that as a clear and ready hint, picks up his pace to a speed that it practically a blur and leaves Niki to cling on for the ride.

He starts bobbing his head, faster and faster, and takes pleasure in how he can still flick his tongue at the same time.

And Niki keeps swearing, almost at the top of his lungs.

He hollows his cheeks periodically, just to keep things interesting. Tastes something that is purely _Niki_ with each movement and finds himself briefly pulling right back to lap at the very source of the taste.

And Niki’s voice breaks, Niki’s loud swearing is reduced to soft whimpers as he _thuds_ his head back against the wall and closes his eyes.

…And he, acting on a suspicion that he is more than willing to get punched for, draws back his lips and ever so gently traces his teeth down Niki’s cock-

And _Niki_ -

_Oh_.

Niki is beautiful when he comes. Even a few weeks ago he would’ve scoffed at the use of the word, but now there’s absolutely no way to deny it. He shudders through every last drop, and continues doing so afterwards. His eyes slide shut, dark eyelashes fanning out against pale skin. He gulps several times, as if trying to spit out or swallow words. His chest rises and falls, and rises and falls, and rises and falls as his cock softens and his entire body becomes strangely yielding…

And then he slumps down the wall, falls into the cradle of his arms with a breathless murmur and a soft quirk of his lips that could almost be a smile on any other person.

…He’ll take it, nonetheless.

They sit in peace for a long few seconds, despite his aching cock, before Niki traces teasing fingers up the outside of his wrist and speaks again. He’s been filling the time with further kisses against that smooth throat, trying to work up the fire to dig his teeth in again and mark it as properly _his_ , “are you ever going to kiss me?”

He pauses for a few seconds, draws back with an arched eyebrow and a faint smirk.

“…On my lips, I mean.”

“We’ll see,” and he grins, slowly and deliberately, and leans back in as Niki’s fingers start to trace ever so slowly down his chest, “maybe in a few more weeks, when you’ve stopped trying to kill yourself.”

And Niki laughs, and pushes his talented fingers ever down.


End file.
